“I can do this.” Rickon said, punching one of the Wights in the face. Another jumped up towards him, hands stretched out to grab the gauntlet and he barely managed to roll out of the way. But he quickly realized his mistake when the Wights began to try and pile on top of him, his suit’s defense system barely keeping up with the attack.
“I can do this!” He shouted, as if volume was going to calm his wild-beating heart, and one of his suit’s arms came off.
Another arm came off and he desperately jumped up, raising the gauntlet high up and far away from prying hands. He looked up to try and find something he could swing from, but his eyes widened in shock instead.
Rickon kicked off the nearest Wight and jumped towards a pile of rocks. He barely managed to squeeze himself between the thick boulders when the world began to shake and vibrate around him. Cracks began to develop through the boulder, and he was cursing his decision to hide there.
But the shaking slowed down somewhat, and nothing fell on his head. He peeked through one of the many cracks that formed around the boulder and saw that the sorcerers had erected a shield between them and the incoming missiles.
He crawled out from under the rocks, and took off on a run. The gauntlet was heavy in his arm but he ran fast and tried to avoid tripping on the corpses of their allies and enemies alike.
His spider-senses warned him to jump to the right and he followed his instinct, barely managing to put distance between himself and the caterpillar shaped Wight that exploded out of the ground. It grunted and huffed, and it reared its head towards him.
Rickon didn’t wait for the beast to roar; he took off running.
“Nope, nope, nope! I can’t do this! Help! Somebody help!”
But everyone was busy fighting their own battles and he saw that the sorcerers were beginning to tire under the weight of the Night King’s assault.
No one was going to help him.
Something bright, something fast, tore through the Night King’s ships, bringing their flurry of fire to a halting stop. Then, as the ships descended into the lake beyond, the light approached him with a terrifying speed but his spider-senses told him nothing and Rickon watched as the light whizzed right past him, slamming the beast back into the ground.
It shrieked, and then it quieted down.
A resplendent light filled his vision and through it, he saw a lean figure approach him. The man didn’t attack him, and something in the arrogant twitch of his lips brought back fond memories of summer time picnics and secret bedtime stories.
“Hello. My name is Rickon Stark.” He managed to squeak out, and he hugged the gauntlet tight to his chest.
“Hello Rickon Stark.” The man responded, smirk transforming to an amused smile. He indicated to the gauntlet with his chin. “I will take that for you, if you want.”
I know you. He wanted to say. But he didn’t, and he handed over the gauntlet. He squinted at the incoming hoard heading towards them.
“How are you going to get through that?” He asked.
The man smirked and it was such a familiar sight, such an integral part of him, that he instantly recognized the man before him. How could he not recognize him?
“Theon—” He tried, but he choked on his words instead. Theon’s blue eyes were drowned out by a bright light. His skin began to glow, and Rickon squeezed his eyes shut to avoid being blinded and when he managed to open it again, Theon was gone.
Theon zoomed through the battlefield, burning bright and hot; a vengeful comet tearing through their enemies’ defenses. Theon didn’t physically burn, but Rickon thought he saw a tongue of fire licking around him, incinerating everything around him.
“Wow.” He whispered, and turned to punch a creeping Wight on the face, sending it flying away.
He spared a brief look at his brother and saw him throw his shield at a giant Wight, Mjolnir in his free hand.
Rickon wondered if Robb knew that Theon was back home.